Walk of Shame

by ANDREA SMITH

  I belch loudly to shut her up.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. After we’ve slept. But what about you? Did you meet anyone interesting?”

  “No, not really. Oh, but I fucked a clown and it was really, really hot!”

  “Oh Pey,” she giggles, helping me over to one of the beds, “you’re being silly. There were no clowns there, hun. You just need to sleep it off.”

  Chapter 21

  Weston was stretched out on his bed, twirling the lacy remnants of his witch’s panties around on his index finger. He had made sure he picked them up and stuffed them into the pocket of his costume before he left the room from which she had just fled.

  He wasn’t sure why he had held onto them. He wasn’t one to collect trophies or mementos from his hookups. This was a first. He wondered why.

  Maybe it was because he had never fucked a witch. A witch with a wart on her fake nose, and a black cat perched on her shoulder with Velcro for fuck’s sake! Even now, he smiled thinking about it.

  Thinking about her.

  Remembering the soft, velvety smoothness of her skin, and the way he had felt when her hands had touched him, tentatively at first, but then with eager abandon. He liked that she held nothing back. She had gone after what she wanted unabashedly, yet there had been something about her, almost…innocent. She was a contradiction in terms.

  She had fascinated him. Her lips, her breasts, and her scent – all of it was embedded in his mind. And she had come so hard, skittering away like she was embarrassed about it once they had caught their breath and their heart rates had normalized. He swore that from the moment their lips touched, she had totally put her witchy woman spell over him with her passion. Weston had known their tryst would be phenomenal, he had just never considered that he’d still be thinking about it two days later.

  He seriously had jacked off to the memory…twice.

  Even now, he had a semi.

  Christ!

  His thoughts were interrupted when his cell phone rang. His mother’s name appeared on the Caller ID, bringing him quickly back to flaccidity.

  “Hey Mom,” he said. She’d been calling him daily since he had left New York last week. Weston had stuck around until Carson had been brought out of the coma, and he and his family were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief when she recognized all of them, even though she was extremely groggy, which they were told was to be expected.

  She had dozed off and on but, unfortunately, during her lucid moments, had no recollection as to what had happened to her, or who had been involved. Her neurologist said that was perfectly normal with such a trauma and, in fact, it was possible her memory of the incident itself may never surface.

  His father had been extremely angry about that possibility, but Easton Matthews had been told not to press. And Weston knew that as difficult as that would be for all of them, they would not press Carson.

  “I just wanted to check in with you, honey,” his mother said, “I feel like with all the time we’re spending at the hospital, we’re overlooking you.”

  Weston knew his mother well enough to know that she was trying to compensate for the rift that existed between his father and himself. It was nothing new for her. It had been that way off and on over the years. But right now, Carson needed their attention, and he wouldn’t have his mother feeling some sense of guilt over devoting her time and energy to seeing to his sister’s needs right now.

  “Mom, it’s fine,” he replied. “I’m fine. You don’t need to check up on me. Just update me on Carson’s progress, okay?”

  She filled him in on the latest, which was that while Carson was healing physically, she still had no conscious memory of the circumstances surrounding the accident, as they now referred to it. It was obviously more palpable for them.

  “She’s coming home with us once she’s released in a few days,” his mother said. “And she’s not going back to Juilliard or New York City for that matter,” she declared. “We’re keeping her close by for now. Where she’ll be safe.”

  “In other words, you’re going to make a prison for her back in D.C.,” Weston commented.

  “You’re damn right,” she replied. “Until we figure out what the hell was going on in her life, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  Weston knew that his mother meant every word of what she said. He also knew that, at some point, Carson would flex her independent and stubborn muscle, and all hell would break loose.

  “Will you be coming for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

  “It depends. “Where is Thanksgiving this year?” It wasn’t a stupid question given the multitude of homes and condos his parents owned. He hadn’t gone home last year because they were in D.C., and he didn’t feel like making the trip at the height of hockey season. This year, that wouldn’t be an issue except he still didn’t feel like going to D.C.

  “Well, your grandparents want to have it at their timeshare in Plymouth. How’s that for working out a great Thanksgiving destination this year? It’s only an hour away from you. And Weston, you know, they’re both getting up there in years, so I really hope…”

  “Mom,” he interrupted, “you don’t need to pitch it to me. I’m totally fine with driving up to Plymouth for Thanksgiving. They’re my grandparents and I love them too.”

  “Of course you do, honey. I know that. I just know that things have been a bit strained between you and your father and I think this will make it comfortable for everyone. Your grandparents haven’t seen you in a while, what with their traveling, but they did make a point of mentioning they wanted all of us together. And of course, you’re welcome to bring a guest, I mean, if you’re seeing anyone. I’m not trying to pry or anything…”

  Weston had to smile as she left the rest of that sentence hang. He knew his mother was uncomfortable with the subject, though he really didn’t understand why she would be. According to his Aunt Lindsey, his mother had been quite the party girl in her day. Every time his aunt brought that fact up, his mother was quick to shush her and shoot her those dagger looks that mean cease and fucking desist!

  Weston laughed at the silence now between them.

  “I’ll let you know, Mom.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you in a few days with the details and to update you on your sister. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom. Give Carson a hug for me, will you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  After the call ended, Weston thought about the possibility of finding the little vixen witch he’d been fantasizing about ever since the Halloween party.

  But how in the hell would he be able to accomplish that? He had no clue as to her identity, and it wasn’t as if they had even circulated amongst the other party guests. She had been every bit as anonymous to the people there as he had been. He hadn’t been in the party mood that night. It had been all about getting laid. True to form for Weston Matthews.

  He sighed and, for the first time, he had sincere regrets that he hadn’t at least gotten her name and digits.

  Chapter 22

  “And then he whispered real softly in my ear, his breath all warm and his voice husky with lust, his one hand was tangled up in my hair and he said, ‘Come for me, Eva. Come for me hard,’ And I swear to God, Pey, the second he said that, the head of his dick plunged even deeper and it hit my G-spot, and it was like a detonation button. I exploded and I moaned out his name!“

  I jump in, cutting her off. “And he moaned my name at the very same time as our climaxes crashed together like foamy waves against the rocky coastline, creating a spray of pure pleasure that washed over us at the same moment in time,” I finish, while still tapping away on my laptop.

  Jeezy-peasy, I know this by heart. Every last moan, every last groan, every bead of sweat Eva and Marcus shared during their first fuckfest together is indelibly etched in my mind. And trust me, it’s all against my will.

  “Well!” she says, although she can’t be all that offended, because Holy Mother of Christ,
she has to know better than anyone how many repeats she’s given me of this story, “I guess you’re trying to tell me to shut up in your own subtle way.”

  I stop typing and turn around, giving her an ingenuous smile. “Look Eva, I am really and truly happy for you and Marcus. It sounds as if you two have a fantastic chemistry going on, and I get it. I totally do believe it or not. And I love that your first time together was so fucking epic, but every time I mention the fantastic clown sex I had, you change the subject. I mean what the hell? That was the first male-generated ‘O’ I’ve ever had! Somehow, I thought my BFF would be all over that.”

  She growls at me as she launches herself up and off of my bed. “Are you going to start with that again?”

  “Well…yeah.”

  “Okay, so I get that I’ve gone on too much about Marcus and me – and I’m not just talking about our first lovemaking session, before that, I’ve been running my mouth daily on our relationship and you’ve been very tolerant and supportive of which I sincerely appreciate. And I know you tossed Stuart out, which I seriously think is the best thing you could’ve done. So, I just want you to know that I’m proud of you, and especially proud of the way you’re taking control of your sexual well-being. Babe, you’ve been taking two or three showers per fucking day, so I get that you’re in the middle of your own sexual revolution, and I think that’s totally awesome.”

  I study her and I know full well that there’s a BUT coming.

  “But,” she says, finally pausing to take a breath.

  I told you.

  “This whole nonsense about some…clown fucking you in a deserted conference room at the hotel, well…”

  She stumbles to find words I won’t find offensive. Good Luck with that, Eva.

  “It’s just that you are so gorgeous and smart and sexy, and I just know that before long you will find someone special, too. You don’t need to fabricate stuff. I know that I’ve gone on too much about Marcus and it makes perfect sense for you to feel left out, and maybe a teeny bit envious but I’ll tone it down, okay?”

  “You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’ve made this whole thing up because I’m fucking jealous or nutty or psycho?” I’m glaring at her now, and we hardly ever get pissed at one another – at least as pissed as I am at the moment.

  Fuck that.

  “I’m just saying that you had a lot to drink and, let’s face it, you sometimes don’t know your own limits. I believe you believe it, but I’m inclined to think it was a dream you had after you came back here and passed out. Seriously? You would actually want to do it with a…clown?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Eva,” I snap. “I wasn’t all that drunk at the time! And no, I don’t have some clown fetish. He just happened to be dressed as a clown for the party. He’s probably telling his best friend he fucked a witch, and I’m sure his friend isn’t calling him a damn liar!”

  I stand up to leave the room but she grabs my arm. “I’m not calling you a liar. I just…” Her voice trails off.

  “You just don’t believe it happened. Well it did. I was fucked exquisitely by a clown. A clown with a pierced dick as a matter of fact! Oh, and here’s the juicy part that I left out: when I came, I squirted. So there!”

  I push past her and grab my jacket. I need to run off some of this anger. It’s bad Karma to be pissed at your best friend, even if she does deserve it.

  I was fucked by a clown!

  Chapter 23

  Weston was totally prepared for the wrath of Penny when he entered their study room the following day. He had missed a total of three sessions. No doubt, she would probably be kicking his ass to the curb. Not a good thing under the circumstances.

  He should have blown off the Halloween party, but now he was glad that he hadn’t. Whatever Penny would dish at him he had coming. He was the one with fucked up priorities, after all. He promised himself he would react appropriately to her impending chastisement.

  “Glad to see you’re still among the living, Matthews,” she chirped as he took his seat across from her. “You know, it might’ve been common courtesy to post a private message to my mailbox on the tutor website.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” he said, tossing in some sincere regret. “Things were kind of chaotic. A family emergency came up and, well, I had to beat a fast track out of here to New York. I apologize for not specifically relaying that to you.”

  She nodded, pulling a stack of papers from her briefcase. “Yes, Professor Lindquist filled me in on that much when I reached out to him for your status. I hope everything worked out okay with the emergency,” she replied softly.

  Weston was taken aback with her calm demeanor. There was no sign of her being pissed at him at all, and she had every right to be under the circumstances.

  He met her gaze. It held some compassion. Did she want him to fill her in on the details, or would she snap back at him like she had when he mentioned his friend that was cheating on his girlfriend? He made the split second decision to go in.

  “My younger sister, Carson, was assaulted and suffered some major injuries. She goes to college in New York City. They had to put her into a medically induced coma. I stuck around. I needed to be there…”

  “Of course you did,” she replied, her eyes searching his. “And how is she doing now?”

  “She’s on the mend. But she has no recollection of what happened exactly. She was beaten, sexually assaulted, and dumped in a parking lot.”

  “Oh my God, Weston,” she replied, “that’s horrible. I can’t believe that such random acts of violence like that can happen to anyone. What a brutal thing for her to go through.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, the fact that this was the first time she had called him by his first name did not go unnoticed. “But the thing is, I’m not so sure it was random.”

  Penny pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose; her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  And for whatever reason, Weston took that opportunity to fill her in on what his sister had claimed to be involved in since being in New York City for her studies in dramatic theatre.

  He wasn’t sure why he felt comfortable confiding this to Penny Lane, but she was a chick, and maybe she could empathize if only because she sensed men had not always been kind to her, though he doubted she’d endured the cruelty and physical suffering that Carson had experienced.

  “So, your father feels that you have somehow been negligent because you didn’t clue him in on Carson’s…fetish?

  “Yeah, pretty much,” he answered. “But the truth is, Carson sometimes does shit for attention, though I can’t figure out her motivation. She never lacked attention from either of my parents, in particular my father. She has a flair for the dramatic, which totally explains her choice of higher education. I never actually took her serious, and I guess I should have.”

  Weston was shouldering guilt; that much was painfully obvious. And the fact that he was, intrigued Penny a bit. Was it possible that his shallowness didn’t run that deep? If that wasn’t an oxymoron, she didn’t know what was!

  “I’m no expert on family ties, Weston. I wasn’t raised in the traditional family environment. But something tells me that you’re beating yourself up for something you played no part in. It really isn’t productive for anyone, although it does make me…curious.”

  “Curious? Why?”

  Penny shifted in her chair. She wasn’t about to divulge to him her field of study in socio-economic dynamics. Yet, he and his family would be a perfect opportunity to test out some of her theories.

  “It’s just that being an only child of a one-parent family – without financial wealth as part of the equation, I’m probably not the best person to understand your…dilemma right now.”

  He shrugged, “But why would you care?” he asked, studying Penny from a different angle himself.

  She definitely was out of her element with his direct question. Indeed, why would she care? The fact remaine
d that Weston had shown her twice now that the profile of him she had outlined might in fact be…flawed. First with his protectiveness regarding the Stuart situation, and now with his obvious regret over inaction on the whole thing with his sister and the confidences she shared with him over her BDSM fetish.

  “Well…” she stammered, “I know that you and I aren’t best buds or anything, and for the most part, we butt heads on almost everything, but still, I am human and I can tell that you’re in some kind of emotional pain over this tragedy. I mean, if there’s anything I can do to help or point you in the direction of campus resources available to help counsel you, I’d be happy to do so.”

  “That’s nice of you, Penny. But I’ll get through it. So, on a brighter note, how are things with you and Stuart?” Since he hadn’t been around for a few days, he wondered if Peyton had kept her word, not that Penny seemed to be aware of what an asshat she’d been seeing anyway.

  “Stuart and I are through.”

  He quirked a quizzical brow. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.” Weston couldn’t help but wonder if Peyton had clued old Stewie in on the conversation he’d had with her right before he had gone to New York. Had he made things worse? He had been sure that Peyton had been sincere in her agreement to end it with Stuart. Fuck! Women couldn’t be trusted sometimes.

  “It’s no big deal,” Penny replied with a shrug. “Incompatibility, I suppose.”

  Hell, she seemed to be taking it okay. Unless it was a front to hide her pain.

  “It was a mutual thing,” she explained hurriedly.

  And now it was Weston’s turn to take pause. He knew Penny enough to know she had a general mistrust of men. He wondered what the fuck had happened to her that made her that way. No doubt this thing with Stuart – whatever the reason for their breakup had been, had likely reinforced that shit with her. But the timing of her breakup with Stuart couldn’t have worked out better for him. He had an idea brewing that just might make his old man take pause and get off of his ass for ten minutes.